Anneliese was clutching her cardigan so tightly it had become a wrap. Her hands simply could not unclamp themselves from each other, making the struggle before her even more difficult. Her body, her brain, everything but her heart was demanding for her to turn around, walk away and return to the home that she had so haphazardly left. Logically, this shouldn't even be an issue: do not open that door. There was nothing left for her behind it, only the past and the pain that went with it.

But, upon hearing about what had happened three nights ago, whispers about what he had done, there had been this pull, this internal tug that Anneliese hadn't been able to ignore. And she knew that they had been separated for almost two years now, and the horrible things Will had done, but--- even after all those months of self-convincing she couldn't quite convince herself to walk away. She had made it all the way here, to Mungo's recovering wing, to his room.... she just needed to know if that was the old Will in there.

A bitter taste came to her mouth as it dawned on her that this 'old' Will probably didn't even exist, but you don't exactly switch sides in the heat of a battle, either, without having some kind of character change.

With a long, deep breath, Anneliese finally felt her hands unclench and her knees unlock. How exactly she managed to finally open the door and walk in, she couldn't remember once she caught sight of his sleeping body.

And--- instant tears sprung from her eyes as she looked upon him, her hands immediately going to her mouth in shock. Will looked so haggard, so torn and so brutalized, even as he slept, and that was all she could see from here, after nearly three days of healing. Peaceful was not a word she could use to describe him. And it was strange, because for so many years that was how she had seen him. Always calm, always reasonable and thoughtful, always together. She knew, now, that that had all been a facade for this awful greater being, but nearly seventeen years of marriage were hard to erase.

Anneliese quickly began to wipe away at her tears, not wanting him to see her like this per chance he did wake. No, she would be strong, like all her friends had continued to be through all these years of living through war. As she dried her eyes, she noticed his hand was tied magically to the side of the bed. So they didn't even know what to do with him. It made her feel a bit better, knowing she wasn't the only one confused concerning the true intentions and actions of the man before her.

Placing the back of her palm to her forehead as she stood, Anneliese looked up to the ceiling as if it could give her support. She would wait until he woke up, hear what he had to say, if anything, and that was all. She would allow herself that much; she wanted to look back on this day and think she had done everything she could to assure the well-being and sanity of herself and her children.

After pulling up the only chair in the room, Anneliese sat bedside in silence for a good twenty minutes, simply staring at Will's face. She noticed a large chunk of his hair was matted down to his face, and before she realized what she was doing, Anneliese reached up to push the wet hair out of his eyes with care. As soon as she felt her skin touch his, she sucked in all air and froze. What was she doing?

But it was too late; Will was already stirring, and she barely had time to sit herself back down with her hands in her lap before he opened his eyes completely. Anneliese watched as he came too, first blinking slowly, then more normally, moving just enough to make his hand cuff chink against resistance, and finally when he realized she was here.

Despite feeling anything but it, Anneliese managed to keep a calm exterior. "The hospital owled me," she spoke first as he seemed unable to. A small part of her was proud not only that she was maintaining eye contact as she spoke, but also upon realizing that she too, could lie to his face.

It was over, this war was finally over. Harry Potter, wonderful Harry Potter, had finally succeeded in destroying the Dark Lord, giving the Wizarding World what it needed most; peace. And albeit this fight had managed to bring Hogwarts down to its knees, it was still a success. The twenty plus years of struggle had finally come to end.

It was because of this exhilarating feeling that Mackenzie ignored her injuries to focus her attention on more important things. Like Anthony--- her brave boy! Her brave, loyal son for staying to fight, even though he had no need to and shouldn't have. Mackenzie had never been so proud, so happy to see him alive, and she couldn't clutch him any tighter if she tried. Their reunion had been nothing but well-deserved, and she hadn't cared in the slightest that he had protested to her fussing and crying.

But now, just as practically ever other family in the Great Hall, Mackenzie and Anthony sat at one of the long tables (Hufflepuff, perhaps?), staying close and talking with neighbors. The Boots, who Mackenzie had been pleasantly surprised to see here, were sitting across with Terry retelling a rather animated story about his personal encounter with acromantula not too many hours ago. His father looked on, rather engulfed, while his mother, with a particulary large gash across her forehead, distractedly smiled. Mackenzie was about to offer her healing services when a familiar, though different looking, figure caught the corner of her eye a ways off.

Standing abruptly, she caught the attention of her son, who turned sharply toward his mother. "Mam?" Anthony asked, eventually rising to stand with her. He didn't think he had ever seen his mother stand this straight, this perfectly still in, well, ever. Confused, he tried to follow her gaze, but found it too difficult. "Mam?"

Mackenzie did not reply, but instead gave out a small flap of her hand. She needed to look, needed to focus to make sure that what she thought she had seen couldn't possible be, because why would he come here? How could he be? There had been no word for a very long time... it was just wishful thinking. Now that everything was over.... she had just been thinking about him....

She could barely believe her eyes. Was that---

"Sebastian?" Her voice felt weak and feeble, her mouth fumbling over a familiar word it hadn't spoken in many months. She felt her palms push down onto the table and her feet begin to move at such a pace, but nothing truly registered. She could hear Anthony padding quickly behind her, but it did not matter to her. There was nothing, nothing else in the world that she could possibly focus on except this curly-brown haired back of a head. It could--- could it be---?

"DA!" Mackenzie heard Anthony shout, and felt him rush by her. She watched as her son jumped to his father, nearly tackling the both of them to the ground with the amount of energy displayed. They talked loudly, both at the same time, but she could not focus on the words coming out of their mouths. She felt almost paralyzed, unable to move because of the figure in front of her.

It was him... it was him.... he was here, Sebastian was here, in the flesh. He hadn't--- he hadn't--

A sob choked in her throat, just loud enough for both her husband and son to turn toward her. Or maybe Anthony had been pointing to her, she would never know. Either way it had put her in the same place; staring directly at a very dirty, and skinny, Sebastian Goldstein.

The next few moments were a blur, and later on she would swear she had no idea how the gap between them closed, but it had and then her hands were tentatively touching his face. First just a brush on his cheek, then soon a grasp of the side of his head and a tug at his hair. Eventually her hands raked down his chest, stopping momentarily to fix a torn seam. All while her inspection, Sebastian stayed perfectly quiet, the stillest and quietest she had ever seen him.

It was--- this was him. It was him. Sebastian had come back to her. He had come back to her. With tears in her eyes, Mackenzie let her hands drop to her sides.

"You should talk with Anthony first," she spoke softly, never breaking their gaze. "He's been... very worried about you." Mackenzie began to nod her head, numbly agreeing with herself. Her son needed his father right now, Sebastian had been gone for so long, and she could be patient. She could go and try to find Ophelia and Peter, Anthony had said they'd sent all the other children to Hogsmeade...

But Sebastian shook his head, and moved to tightly hold her forearms like he used to when they were young and had something important to say. "No," he spoke in a hoarse voice, which made her head tilt sadly. "No," he repeated, keeping the same stern tone. "No," Sebastian finished, and wrapped his arms around her for a tight embrace. "We've been apart long enough," he spoke into her ear.

And with that, Mackenzie felt everything she had tied up so securely for the past months unravel. But it was good, because if she was going to cry hysterically in public, it should be over her presumed to be dead husband's return after the end of the war.

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